


How Many Crows Are in a Murder

by Derudy237



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Derudy237/pseuds/Derudy237
Summary: A noir, or the start of one, using mine and a friend's OC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	How Many Crows Are in a Murder

The alleys of Hell aren’t exactly the best place to run a business. You’d still be surprised at how many do. Croe McGreeves liked to keep his services on the move. Being a P.I. in Hell is an easy way to make enemies fast, and he knew it all too well. As he pulled himself behind a dumpster with an arm and side full of lead, he was reminded of the hardest part of this job.

Surviving to take the next call.

After a decent amount of time to heal and a quick dive into the piles of trash for an old blanket, he managed to stumble to a stand and make his way back to a safe house a few blocks away. Shedding his blood stained coat and shirt to the trash can and pulling another set from his stash, he stopped to stand in front of a cracked and broken mirror on the wall. He sighed, as the different reflections all seemed to highlight scars and wounds from past cases. The line of cuts and raggedly healed skin from a knife here and there, The many many sizes of bullet holes from the various different firearms. His shimmery dark fur filling in the gaps. Croe’s own eyes finally met in his reflection, and a black and grey cat stares back. 

“How so very fitting.” And once again, with a growl, he slammed his fist into the glass.

Croe slipped the new shirt over his shoulders, along with the jacket, this one clean but still showing a few holes. Setting his camera down and cutting the lights, he goes about the most relaxing thing he can do in a time like this. The film. The wonderfully telling and eye opening process of developing the film. He loves this part of his job more than anything, the expose of little hints and details 

These details in particular were going to lead to a big payout. The photos of the spunky young Cherri Bomb’s favorite hangout spots and bases. Her friends and partners, yes there seemed to be many of those. She didn’t exactly choose to hide her intentions of becoming a powerhouse and overlord of Hell, nor hide her preparations to achieve her goals. She was just a little too open, and his client wanted to take advantage of this.

Croe wondered what his efforts would cause, what kind of shift in power these little details would lead to. He wondered if the great overlords even bothered to know he existed. 

For now there was more work to do. It was time to dig in to the secret life of this Angel character. Time to take a trip to the diner.

“Ohhhh Kitty!! How’ve you been Croe? You look famished, as usual. You need to remember to eat! I keep telling you to come see me!”

The lone bee demon was holding herself up over the bar, close to shouting as he walked in to the little yellow and black diner on the corner, the place empty other than herself and a few quiet patrons.

“Barbie, I’m fine. You know I don’t get much of an appetite. And your fish is always rotten.”

He sat down at the bar right in front of her, his smirk in contrast to the false look of shock across her furry yellow cheeks.

“Croe, you mangy stray! If I had any mind, you’d be back on that sidewalk with a cup a joe in your fur!”

He chuckled and shook his head, dropping his gaze to his folded hands. 

“‘Bee you lost what little mind you showed up with a long time ago. Looks like I’m staying put.”

Her shock turned to a laugh as one set of arms poured him a perfect cup of coffee, the other covering her mouth to as she cackled.

“Oh, Kitty, you always did know how to get my head on straight. What you in the mood for beyond the joe, huh? It’s on the house, and I ain’t letting you leave till it’s gone this time!” 

She always cooked for him, and it was always good food. Barbie was an amazing chef, and fast too. It was a wonder that the owner hadn’t handed over this place, he was rarely here anyway. The diner had taken on Barbie’s theme, yellow and black for the vinyl and paint, with purple accents here and there that matched the bright eyes of the spunky little bee. She lived for this place since her fall. Saw it as her chance to start over and be something. 

“You know I’m proud of you right, ‘Bee? You turned this place around, made it yours-”

“Not mine … Boss says it won’t be till something takes him.” She sighed and dropped her head at the stove, and he watched the tips of her wings fall just a bit. He sighed too, and rested his chin on his fist

“I didn’t mean to upset you, ‘Bee, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t ... “ She said quietly and a little angry under her breath, his eyes watching her hands ball into little fists. But with a change of pace she turned around towards him, her grin back on her face and her glow in her deep purple eyes, though it wavered just enough for him to catch.

“Tuna melt and fries, Kitty! You want your cold one hard or kid friendly?” One hand set the plate in front of him as the others pointed over her shoulder to the fridge, a mix of regular sodas and alcoholic refreshments behind the dimly lit glass.

“Just the joe, ‘Bee. I need to warm up. I spent my night in that photo room again, no lights mean no heat.

Her eyes narrowed just a bit as her grin grew ear to ear. She knew this meant he had a case. At that point she realized why he was here, and she was gonna milk every minute of it.

“You know, the food may be my treat, but I like getting some dough for my hard work. You know I’m good for it, Kitty.”

He rolled his eyes and stuffed a hand down the inside of his coat, his palm covering a few bills as he comes back to the bar, his gaze now on hers as she lights up and almost bounces. 

“Ooooh, you DO have a client! I knew it! Who is it, what’s the sitch!”

“You know I hate getting you involved, ‘Bee, it’s dangerous, and you’ve patched me up more than once as proof. If it’s too risky-”

And she cut him off with a swift stab down of her best kitchen knife, the side of the blade rubbing against the tip of his finger. He got the point.

“Croe, I can take care of myself. So who’s your mark?”

“Angel Dust. The hotel project.”

“Ohhh, you want some dirt on pretty boy huh?”

Barbie grinned and giggled as she tugged the knife out of the bar. It went an inch or two deeper than he thought.

He actually ate more than half the tuna melt for once, and somehow still managed to talk Barbie through what he had found so far, though he kept her clear of the important, and therefore incriminating info. She always knew when he was holding something back, a fake name here, a street that didn’t exist. Those were the details she confirmed for him, along with anything else she knew. She enjoyed his groans and the breaking of his poker face when she called him out on his fibs, maybe a little too much. But he trusted what she heard from around the town, with the different patrons always chatting about news over their food.

“I’m trying to keep you out of the picture here, ‘Bee, the less you know the less likely someone will end up after you too. I’ve already been shot twice this week, I don’t need anybody pulling a drive by of the diner.”

“And they know better, Croe.” She laughed again and leaned closer to his nose. ”Besides! I’ve got my big, mean Kitty protecting me, Right?”

He rolled his eyes again and pushed her back by the fluff between her eyes, taking another drink of coffee. He was always looking out for her when he knew he didn’t need to. She really could take care of herself, he knew why she was down here. 

“I know I can take a bullet but I’m no tank. And if I’m ever gonna finish the case I do have to leave sometime.” He had turned his face to set the coffee back down beside his plate when he felt a furry smooch on his cheek.

“Maybe you don’t need to keep doing cases, Croe …” She trailed off before leaning back again, her own head a blurred mix of flirtation and sincerity. “There’s other jobs you know, I could always use the help around here … you know, with my … lunch rush?” She was just as bad at lying as he was.

He was still frozen, the mug hovering just an inch off the table.

_ She really did that, didn’t she. _

“Barbie … I …”

A spray of bullets bounced through the glass at that moment, from the window of a car speeding away with smoking tires. Thankfully they hit the back wall and not anyone inside.

Croe opened his eyes to see where he landed, knowing his reflexes had kicked in as soon as the shots rang out. 

He was looking into wide purple globes, Barbie beneath him on the kitchen tile.

“I told you. I’m dangerous.”

Barbie had stood up to tell the other patrons to go home, they were closed for the night after that drive by. Croe had just rolled to the side and, from the floor behind the counter, he could see 'Bee's hands and knees shaking bad. As soon as the last guest had crossed the street she collapsed to her knees, and Croe quickly pulled her into his side, trying unsuccessfully to stop her shaking from spreading. 

"Barbie. Listen to me, 'Bee, it's alright now. I've got you. I'm here."

"An 8 shot revolver. Shooter was left handed. The gun was painted red. Licence plate was VA1-"

"Barbie I'm not worried about that, I'm worried about-"

"Will you just shut up for a second, Croe!! That was his gun!"

Her shaking got even worse as she pressed into his side, the surprisingly strong grip on his arm keeping him close. 

"'Bee, who's gun …"

"My … My husband …. In his desk, he kept a red revolver."

She finally looked up at him, her mouth agape in realization as more pieces fit together. 

"My Ex is here, in hell. The man I murdered for cheating is here and he just shot at us."

Croe sat in shock at how fast she was aligning clues, her eyes catching details he wouldn't have even thought to check for. But she had him worried for a reason even more dangerous.

"Barbie, the plate number, are you sure-"

She nodded and stopped him with a whimper as a tear finally left her eye.

"Valentino is my Ex Husband. I'm sure of it, Kitty, I'm positive. Which means-"

"Which means we are in deep shit, 'Bee."

Croe managed to get the two of them on their feet, both of them still a lot more worried than they were willing to show the other. He went about extracting a few bullets from the painted bricks of the wall, just in case they would come in handy later, and cleaned the broken glass while Barbie closed up the kitchen.

“You know I’m not letting you walk down that sidewalk by yourself, ‘Bee.”

“I’m not asking you not to, Kitty, but I can take care of myself I’ve told you. This is Hell, it’s not supposed to sunshine and rainbows. The fact that I choose to be something bright is my own burden to bear, Croe, I have to remember that and so do you.”

The pair finished closing up shop and started down the sidewalk, turning the corner towards Barbie's building only to see a blazing fire and the same license plates on a few cars speeding away. Val seemed one step ahead in whatever he had planned. 

"Oh this is starting to piss me off." Croe moaned with a palm over his face. "C'mon, I've got a safehouse nearby I haven't touched in a while. Val's goons wouldn't have seen me there, and hopefully there's no uninvited squatters."

Croe had already turned around when he heard a strange clang of metal, his ear twitching back towards the sound before he looked to it. 

"He's gonna make me kill him again." Barbie hissed out, her fist leaving a sizable dent in a light post, some drips from busted open knuckles slowly painting the metal. 

Croe sighed and shrugged a bit. "With our luck, we'll get the chance. C'mon, 'Bee, you want that shot I'll give it to you. Supervised, of course."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Kitty." Her tone was cheerful, but he could hear the anger buried in it. "Let's see this safehouse of yours."

Croe led her to a dingy old hideout, the door locks rusted, thankfully still chained up. No visitors. His pistol made quick work of the lock, and he kept it out just in case. Stepping inside wasn't a much better view than the outside, dusty and unrepaired, torn up seats and couches, dim lights, another broken mirror next to the photo room. 

Barbie slowly perused the place like she was looking for something, he caught the look of curiosity in her eyes as she passed him. She really was good at detail work. Maybe it was something he could make use of in a business partner.

_ No, I can't do that to her. I can't put her in that much danger, let alone just to take advantage of her.  _

"You're thinking so loud I can almost hear you, Kitty. It's your place, if you talk to yourself while you work, I won't mind." She turned to him with a grin. "We're both out of our heads, that'd be the least crazy thing that has happened today."

He sighed and hung up his coat and hat by the door. "You don't want to know what's in my head, Barbie. It's too much to handle."

"Even for 4 hands?" She giggled and crossed her arms. "I'm stronger than you think, Croe."

"And I already thought you are stronger than me, so that makes me even weaker." He chuckled out softly.

"Awww, is the tough guy bit just an act, Mr. Whiskers?"


End file.
